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Aegri Somnia: A Sick Man's Dreams
The first thing Clark was aware of was Rachel Wayne's hair, long and black and wavy. Each wave held a glint of reflected light, starlight… Slowly, the world of the dream coalesced around Clark, forming itself as he became aware of it.
The stars were spread out above them, lights from across the universe gathering and reflecting in the Wayne heiress's eyes and hair, as she sat beside Clark, gazing up in wonder. No, not sat, Rachel was leaning against him, her soft body relaxing against his own, her dress rustling as she moved her arm, pointing to the stars above. She was speaking, but the dream hadn't formed the words yet, just the joyful look on her face, the sweet warmth of her, the galaxies reflected in her blue eyes.
"Orion," This time he heard her voice, rich and soft like velvet, as she pointed to another group of stars, "The Hunter. And Scorpio, the Scorpion that hunts him."
Latin, she had spoken that language earlier, so it made sense for her to name the constellations.
"Sagittarius, the Archer. Cancer, the Crab."
A cold breeze blew past them, and Rachel snuggled closer. It was chilly there, on the rooftop of Wayne manor, but there was a blanket under them and they had each other for warmth, and two steaming cups of cocoa sat beside them on the tiles.
"Leo, the Lion."
Clark wrapped his arm around Rachel's shoulders, letting his body warm her, letting the soft aroma of books and French vanilla perfume and her own rich, warm scent fill his nostrils.
"Brainiacus, the Android."
He looked up and followed her hand as she pointed to a V-shaped trio of stars. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so content, just stroking Rachel's hair, listening to her voice and nothing else, because the world was just them, and the rooftop, and the stars, no villains or accidents or natural disasters to stop the sound of her words, tear his eyes from the stars.
"Supermanos, the Steel Man," This constellation was shaped like the symbol of El, next to a bat-shaped constellation, "Battus Signalum, the Knight. And there… is the Princess they both are sworn to protect… But I don't know her name. Nobody does."
"I do," Clark said, finding he did know. He slid one large, calloused hand across her smooth cheek, turning her beautiful face to him, marveling at the stars, no longer mere reflections, in her eyes. "The Princess, her name is Rachel Wayne."
Clark wasn't sure who moved first to close the distance between them, but it didn't matter because his lips were pressed against Rachel's and they were kissing, the world narrowed to the feel of Rachel's mouth pressed against his own, the feel of her hair between his fingers and her own hands tangled in his shirt. Her lips were so soft, so gentle as they moved against his own, parting to allow Clark to deepen the kiss, taste the smooth cherry sweetness of her tongue against his own.
They parted slowly, reluctantly, as Clark lay Rachel down on the blanket and watched her panting for breath, drinking in the sight of Rachel's flushed face, her eyes fixed on his and full of such joy and love that Clark could feel himself grinning like a big idiot, but it didn't seem to matter. Rachel just smiled back, and ran one smooth hand down Clark's cheek, trailing soft fingers down his jawline and tracing Clark's bottom lip with her index finger.
Clark cupped her hand in his, kissing her outstretched finger. In reality, in the waking world, Clark couldn't be sure of her feelings or intentions, or even of his own. He had no idea how she'd react to his being Superman, or whether he'd ever have the courage to tell her… but here in the dream there was nothing, nothing but her smile, and her hands in his hair pulling him down for another kiss, and the sweetness of the knowledge that he could belong to Rachel and only Rachel, and she wanted nothing but him.
And what about Batwoman?The thought came unbidden to his head, and there was a moment of hesitation, of guilt, thinking about the Dark Knight…
The next moment Rachel was gone from his arms. Clark looked around frantically, trying to figure out where he was. Not Wayne Manor but a strange rooftop, somewhere in Gotham judging by the gargoyles, gothic towers, and the figure perched atop the nearest spire.
Batwoman stood perfectly balanced atop the point of the steel edifice, her armor as black as the night around her, but so perfectly polished that he could see the stars reflecting, glinting from the surface as she moved, bringing one hand up to beckon Clark.
He stood, feeling the cape rippling down his shoulders, the loose cloth of his suit shifting to become the form-fitting fabric of his uniform. Clark took a step forward, and Batwoman bent her knees, launching herself backwards off the spire and into the Gotham night air.
Clark followed, taking to the air but trusting in Batwoman's skill to keep her safe as she snapped out a grappling line and turned her fall elegantly into a graceful, arcing swing over the streets of Gotham. She detached the grapple at the perfect moment, her body sailing forward as though gravity had no hold on her, as at home in the air as bats she was named for.
Batwoman touched down and Clark landed beside her, marveling at how silent she was on the gravel rooftop. She turned to Clark, her bright blue eyes seeing through to something deep inside him. Those eyes saw everything, read everyone like an open book and gave no clue to the mysterious secrets of their owner. Her lips twitched into a smirk, the tiny movement a huge grin by Batwoman's standards. She betrayed nothing about herself, but even less about her allies and her friends… Clark desperately hoped that she counted him as a friend, or more than a friend. Even knowing so little about her, he knew there was nobody he'd rather trust with his life and his secrets.
"Are you ready, Superman?" She asked, her voice low and husky, full of teasing mischief.
Clark opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden sound of shifting gravel told him that they were no longer alone. At once the roof was filled with swarming figures, shadowy enemies that he could not identify, charging towards Batwoman. Any other night Clark would have rushed to her aid, but what he saw left him frozen and dumbstruck.
For the first time he truly understood the term "Martial Arts".
Batwoman moved like she was dancing, each movement flowing into the next with almost supernatural grace. Time seemed to slow as he watched her, absorbed every movement of her perfectly honed body. Starlight flowed over her armor like rivulets of water as she fluidly moved from sweeping kick to effortless parry. She was everywhere and nowhere, impossible to hit and impossible to avoid. Clark had never seen anybody fight like this… there was no superhuman strength or speed or metahuman power, just pure, matchless skill. She could dance forever and they would never touch her.
Time snapped back to its normal speed, and Clark moved to Batwoman's side. She anticipated his movements and shifted her own to mach him, support him, send foes flying into his hands and keep them from piling onto his back. They had fought together enough times now that they knew each others styles, their rhythms, followed the steps they created together on the spot… Perfect partners in the dance.
As the last of their foes fell, Batwoman spun into his arms and he caught her instinctively, the final steps of the dance in perfect synchrony. For a moment they stood perfectly still, breathing heavily, not from the effort, but from the rush and joy of fighting side by side. Slowly, a smirk crept across Batwoman's face, and Clark could feel his smile growing to match it.
"You dance well, Superman," She said, moving one hand up to Clark's shoulder, "Will you dance the night away?"
"Yes," Clark nodded, but Batwoman, smirking, turned to leave. Clark reached out, desperately, and grabbed her arm. "Wait!"
"I am the Night," She said, sounding almost wistful, before the mischief returned to her voice, "And the Knight."
"Please, stay?" Clark pleaded, and smiled as she turned back to him, a quirk in her eyebrow.
"But your princess is in another castle," she said with a smirk, and Clark frowned. Hadn't he heard Jimmy say something like that before?
Still, she stepped back into Clark's arms, and laid one hand on his shoulder. Clark took her other hand in his, somehow feeling the warmth of her skin and beating heart through the leather and metal of her black gauntlet. They stepped together at the same moment, entering a dance as graceful and natural as the battle dance had been, moving together in perfect tandem with no need for any music but the singing in Clark's veins, and the sound of Batwoman's voice.
"What do you wish to be, Clark?" She asked him, blue eyes laughing at some hidden joke, "Consort or Comrade? If you dance with me tonight, who watches over her? And if you dance with her…"
"Who watches over you?" Clark asked.
"Who takes the steps beside me," she replied, voice firm but amused. "I have a riddle for you, and a reward if you answer it."
"Tell me," Clark said, eager to let her test him.
"Who are light and darkness twinned, the souls of day and night? They are at war but never fight, one ends where the other begins…"
"Us." Clark whispered, knowing with the surety that only exists in dreams that he was right… and what his reward was to be.
Batwoman nodded, her smile devious, then lifted her face to Clark, who pressed their lips together in a questing whisper of a kiss. Her lips were smooth and warm, answering his gentle question with a firm promise. Clark, everyone, everything he loved… Batwoman would protect them, would stand by his side and never let him down.
Their lips parted and Clark took a gasping breath, gaze focused on Batwoman's eyes. They looked right back at him, firm and steady and ready for literally anything and everything, and the smile spreading across her lips was an invitation to face the world beside her, no matter what challenges awaited.
No matter how far he fell, she would be there to catch him… So Clark let himself fall.
This time when their lips met there was no question, no hesitation. Clark felt himself drowning in sensation as Batwoman moved to clutch his hair, pull him close to her, nibble teasingly on his lips and lick tingling trails across them with her tongue. He opened his lips in swift surrender to that marvelous tongue and Batwoman deepened the kiss, claiming his mouth and sending liquid fire rushing through his body. Clark felt his knees go weak as she moved against him, sliding armored hands down his impossibly sensitive body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
She broke the kiss after too brief an eternity, and stepped out of Clark's arms. He wanted to hold her, to pull her back to him, but something in her gaze stopped him. Those were not the eyes of a woman who was running away, who would ever run away, even if it killed her. Instead, she merely stepped back into the shadows that had formed a discreet curtain around them, leaving nothing for Clark to see but the stars and Batwoman's eyes and smiling lips as she stepped back into the darkness, her armor merging with the shadows.
The next moment the shadows slid back, gliding over Batwoman's skin like black silk, taking the Dark Knight's armor with them. In a moment she was standing under the stars again, wearing nothing but a cape, a cowl and a come-hither smile.
For a long moment, Clark could only gape. Her body was lean and supple, with a gymnast's tight, toned figure. Her neck was long and pale, her breasts small and soft and perfect. Her slender waist tapered into a gorgeous pair of hips and a pair of silky smooth legs that seemed to go on forever. Her pale skin was crisscrossed with even paler scars, the marks of a warrior who spent her life protecting others, who had nothing to protect her from bullets and blades other than genius and training and an indomitable will.
She stepped forward and Clark moved to meet her, pulling her into his arms for a passionate kiss. He wished he could pull that cowl off, stroke her hair, kiss her forehead and cheeks and lick her ears, but the mystery was her cloak and her protection, more than armor could ever be. He would never take that secret from her without her consent, even in a dream.
Her hands moved down to his waist, gliding across his hips, stroking and fondling his buttocks as he felt fiery blushes burning across his cheeks. He almost didn't realize what was happening as Batwoman tugged on the hem of his shirt, but at the second pull he got the message and the top half of his uniform was off faster than the human eye could follow.
The appreciative looks and strokes she trailed across his muscles made Clark flush with pride. She trailed her hands up his abs, traced the outline of each pectoral muscles with the measuring eyes of a connoisseur.
"Beautiful," She whispered, and Clark was sure he had never been more highly praised.
Clark opened his mouth to reply, to tell her how beautiful her body was to him, but a single word from Batwoman meant more than Clark could ever find the words to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her collarbone, trailed kisses down to the hollow of her throat, hoping his body could tell her, show her how he felt. He kept going, kissing down her perfectly toned body, his fingers tracing her battle scars as Batwoman's strong hands stroked his face and hair.
Clark laid a reverent kiss on each of her perfect breasts, flicked his tongue down the path between her perfectly sculpted abs. She gasped a little when Clark's tongue brushed her navel, and Clark beamed, eager for more of those appreciative noises.
Two more kisses downward and Clark was kneeling between Batwoman's legs, caressing the smooth, shaved skin with his lips. It made sense that she would shave it, keep even the most intimate part of her body from betraying her secrets. Clark felt her hands tense in his hair as he slid his tongue between those sweet lower lips, feeling the heat there, tasting the way she was already dripping with eagerness. Clark had never actually done this before, but he still wanted to try, to love and kiss every inch of her body, to show Batwoman just how much she meant to him.
Clark leaned in for another lick, but Batwoman pulled away, shaking her head as she took a step back.
"No," she said, retreating another step, "You don't need to do that."
"Why not?" Clark asked, nervously, wondering what he could have done wrong. "Was I… did you… not like it?"
"It's not that I didn't like it," she said softly, "not at all. But it's unnecessary."
"Why?" Clark asked again, rising to his feet. He took a cautious step forward, not knowing the right thing to do. "I just want to make you happy, so if you don't want to…"
"It's not that I don't want to," Batwoman rested a hand on Clark's arm, "I just don't need to. Why should I waste time enjoying myself when other people need it more?"
"But I need to," Clark replied, "I need to make you enjoy yourself, I want to make you happy!"
"And I will," Batwoman promised, turning her face towards Clark.
Clark leaned in to kiss her but she ducked down and to the side, grabbing his tights as she went. Clark toppled as Batwoman pulled him off balance, and for some reason he couldn't seem to fly or do anything but tumble to the ground, where he sat, blinking, with the lower half of his uniform around his ankles.
"I will be happy," she said, kneeling above him, "When you are happy…" Batwoman reached down and caressed his already hard cock, making Clark choke as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "That's all I'll ever need."
Clark gasped as she stroked him, tracing the contours of his ear with her hot tongue. It had been a long time, too long, since Clark had felt a woman's hands on him and it felt like his body was going to melt at her touch, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through the pleasure enough to pull her hand away.
"Stop that, Clark," Batwoman's voice was a mix of stern and sultry, "I know you want this."
"So I can get what I want but you don't need to get what you want?" Clark asked.
"Exactly." She reached for his penis again, but Clark held her fast.
"That is so hypocritical!" he cried.
"It's not about me," Batwoman insisted, glaring at him, "It's about you."
"No." A a female voice, alto to Batwoman's deep contralto, made them both look up as Rachel Wayne shimmered into the starlit darkness, her silver dress and blue eyes outshining the galaxies above, "Clark is right, you're being a hypocrite."
Clark could feel his face flushing and see that every other inch of him did the same, including his hard-on. The heiress, however, didn't seem to care as she strode over to Batwoman, pulled the Dark Knight to her feet, and kissed her soundly on the lips.
Time slowed down as Clark watched Batwoman respond, watched the slightly taller woman take Rachel in her pale, bare arms and slide one hand down the heiress's back. He could see their mouths moving together, the way their breasts pressed up against one another and both beautiful bodies seemed to mirror and compliment each others' incredible allure.
Part of Clark's brain felt guilty for drinking in the sight so hungrily, openly staring at the two women who had known each other much longer than he had known either, and to whom he was logically no more than a third wheel. Another part of his brain promptly told the first part to shut up so it could focus harder on the way Rachel's leg was slipping in between Batwoman's thighs… and a third part of his brain, the part that had been growing more and more lucid as the dream solidified from half-formed images, whispered that it was in fact a dream, and he might as well enjoy it.
The dream rippled, and time returned to normal as Rachel broke the kiss.
"You deserve to be loved," Rachel insisted.
"You deserve to be protected," Batwoman shot back.
"Don't give up your life for me!"
"But you gave me everything, I need to honor that gift."
"No, giving you something doesn't matter if all you use the gifts for is to protect me. It's like re-gifting, it's rude.”
“And what about you, floating through society, always wearing a mask? Can you honestly say that you receive more affection than I do, when everyone around you sees a face that isn't yours?”
“Clark,” Rachel turned to look at Clark, where he stood dumbfounded by their argument, “tell this batty broad she needs to be loved just as much as anyone!"
"Superman,” Batwoman shot out before Clark could open his mouth, “tell this stubborn socialite that she needs to be loved more then I do!"
Clark raised his hands in the air in a gesture of capitulation and confusion. “You're both right, and you're both wrong. Both of you need to be loved!"
Rachel and Batwoman both rolled their eyes at him, but Rachel was grinning.
“So clueless,” Batwoman sighed, and Clark could feel himself going even redder.
"But so cute!” Rachel replied.
The two of them exchanged a look Clark couldn't translate, but it must have meant something along the lines of "Let's table this for now and gang up on the cute farmboy", because the next moment both of them were on him, kissing and nibbling and overwhelming all of Clark's super–acute senses. Rachel embraced him from the front, pulling him down so that she could press her hot, sweet lips to his. Meanwhile, Batwoman slid around behind Clark and started doing indescribably erotic things to his earlobe with her tongue and teeth.
Clark's brain tried to process what was happening, but it was fighting a losing battle against the rapid and varied sensations assailing him. Rachel's mouth was sliding open, inviting his tongue to slip inside and dance with hers, Batwoman's hands were gliding around his body, down his chest towards his groin. There were hands on his hair, lips on his neck, fingers gripping his ass and he wasn't sure whose. The two Gothamite women seemed about to devour Clark's body and mind, and there was nothing he could do about it… nothing he wanted to do but enjoy the pleasurable rush.
"I don't know about you…" Batwoman whispered, so close to his ear that Clark shivered all over, "But I think Miss Wayne here is wearing far too much clothing."
Clark had to agree. He could feel Batwoman's bare breasts against his own naked back, but Rachel was still wearing a long, elegant evening gown that seemed to be spun out of starlight and diamonds. She didn't seem to mind that Clark's hardening cock was pressing and sliding against the fabric, but there was only so much of Gotham's Princess he could touch, and only so long he could bear not to touch the rest of her. Still, even as Clark's hands ranged down Rachel's back and sides, he couldn't find any way to unfasten or remove the tight silky fabric.
Batwoman slid around Clark to Rachel's left, pulling the shorter woman's head to the side for another passionate kiss while her fingers went for the silvery neckline of the dress. Rachel gasped and arched into the kiss as the Dark Knight's hand seized the fabric and ripped the expensive-looking cloth like tissue paper. The tear reached far enough down that Batwoman could immediately seize one of Rachel's pert, soft breasts and begin to massage it in ways that left Rachel moaning in urgent, passionate need.
Clark could feel fire rushing through his veins at the sight of that passionate embrace. He leaned back, calling on power that came more easily to his aid than it ever had before, sending his heat vision to neatly slice away that silver fabric. He carefully slid his hot gaze down her body, leaving a trail of exposed flesh as the dress fell away, as he literally undressed her with his eyes.
The useless cloth slid off in a ripple of starlight, leaving just Rachel… soft, perfect Rachel... gasping and arching into Batwoman's touch. She was lithe and slender, with legs that seemed to go on forever and a smooth, flat stomach that quivered with hitched breaths as Batwoman slid a hand down, past her navel, to the nest of delicately curling black hairs between her thighs. Rachel cried out as Batwoman pushed two strong, dexterous fingers inside the Wayne heiress's small, pink pussy.
Batwoman leaned down to suck on one of Rachel's hardening nipples, smiling as Rachel arched into her mouth and her hand. The princess of Gotham turned her clear blue eyes on Clark, her kiss-flushed lips curving into an open, welcoming smile.
"Clark…" Rachel whispered, "Are you just going to watch, or–"
He closed the distance before she could finish the question, covering Rachel's soft lips with his own, his hands stroking her smooth back, her tight waist, her plump round ass. Batwoman was pressed between them, kissing first Rachel's nipples then Clark's. The Dark Knight's right hand still teased Rachel's pussy while her left closed around Clark's hard cock. Rachel's hand joined Batwoman's, stroking his penis in a long, slow glide from base to tip.
Clark moaned into Rachel's mouth as the women stroked him faster and faster, until he couldn't help thrusting into their grip. He felt a hot liquid brush on the tip of his cock and gasped, looking down to see Batwoman kneeling between them with a sly smirk and dancing eyes. The heroine darted out her tongue to lick Clark's head again, before turning to press her lips to Rachel's clitoris.
Rachel cried out in pleasure and her knees buckled, but Clark caught her about the shoulders while Batwoman caught her around the waist. Together they lowered the Wayne heiress to the ground as Batwoman kept up the assault of lips and tongue between Rachel's legs, leaving the smaller woman gasping, begging, spreading herself wider to give Batwoman more access.
Clark kissed Rachel again, then trailed kisses down her body. He licked each soft nipple, grazed his lips down to her navel, to her hip, lapped sweat off her milky white thigh. Batwoman turned her head towards him, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire, and when she kissed him it tasted of heat and spice and of Rachel's wet pussy.
Batwoman moved to the side, sucking hickey's into the inside of Rachel's thigh, and Clark took a moment to admire Rachel's pussy. Her clitoris was red and shiny from so much stimulation, and she was wetter than Clark had ever thought a woman could be. Her pussy moved and worked, as though desperate to have something to clench around…
Clark was more than eager to give it to her.
He slid up Rachel's body until he was face to face with her, looking her in those bright blue eyes.
"Rachel, can I…"
"Clark," Rachel smiled as she reached down and grasped his cock, guiding it towards her pussy, "If you don't, I will be seriously disappointed."
Clark smiled in return, pushing the head of his cock between her waiting lips, but suddenly another hand grabbed his penis, pulling him away from Rachel's pussy.
"No, you idiot!" Batwoman chided him, "What if you get her pregnant? You are not getting Rachel's pussy."
"Stop it, Bats," Rachel rolled her eyes and glared at Batwoman, "I know what I'm doing."
"Oh, really, Princess?" Batwoman raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Yes, really." Rachel sat up, surveying the two of them, looking surprisingly in control of things for a woman whose face and body were still flushed with arousal, and whose breath still came in ragged gasps. "I want both of you… but I am not taking that," She pointed to Clark's engorged cock "in my ass. And besides…" She pulled Batwoman in close, planting a swift kiss on her lips, "I know my Dark Knight prefers to use the back door…"
Batwoman sighed and kissed Rachel back. "You win, this time."
The shadows started to rise around the Dark Knight, flowing up her thighs, streaming across her hips to collect in front of her groin. With one firm hand she stroked the shadow substance, pulling it out, stretching it, making the formless mass take on a long, thin shape. A few more strokes, and she had formed the darkness into a long, slender black dildo, affixed to her hips with straps of pure shadow. Batwoman shot Clark a slow, devious smirk, and Clark found himself wondering what it would be like to have Batwoman thrusting that long black dildo deep into his ass.
"Next time, Superman," Batwoman purred, before settling into a sitting position behind Rachel, bracing her back against some invisible part of the star-studded darkness of the dream, that long black strap-on bobbing between her firm, toned thighs.
Rachel rose to her knees as Batwoman gripped her hips, helping to maneuver the slender woman into position. Rachel braced her soft hands on Clark's shoulders as she straddled the Dark Knight behind her, her pale, gorgeous thighs spread wide to for maximum access.
Batwoman and Clark guided their partner until the tip of the dildo was pressed to Rachel's puckered, tight hole. Slowly, so very slowly, Rachel lowered herself, breathing in deep, slow breaths as she took the long black shaft into her ass. Inch by slick, slender inch Clark saw the toy disappear into Rachel's ass as she clutched his shoulders tightly, gasping and moaning at the feeling of being so deeply, completely filled.
Finally, with one last push that sent Rachel's whole body quivering, the dildo was completely sheathed in Rachel's ass. She let go of Clark and leaned back into Batwoman, panting with need and sensation as the Dark Knight kissed her princess's ear, then hooked one hand under each of Rachel's knees. Batwoman's name escaped Rachel in a strangled moan as the Dark Knight pulled them up so Rachel was no longer kneeling but sitting on her lap, with her legs held up and spread open. Clark could see Rachel's stretched-open ass, full of Batwoman's strap-on cock, and the fluttering, dripping pussy waiting for his own. Could she really take them both?
"Don't…" Rachel gasped, but grinned a challenge at him, "Don't you dare keep me waiting…"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Clark whispered, his voice almost stolen away by the sheer beauty of Rachel's supine body, and the strong, supple form of the woman she rested against. Batwoman smirked at him over Rachel's shoulder as she nudged the brunette woman's knees a bit farther apart, then brought her sculpted lips and devious tongue down to lap at the sweat beading on Rachel's long, pale neck.
Clark moved in to plant another gentle kiss on the other side of Rachel's throat, easing the tip of his cock into position. With infinite gentleness Clark slowly slipped himself inside, gasping at the incredible sensation of it.
Rachel was so wet, so hot, that Clark felt he was drowning. She pressed in on every inch of him, every gasping breath she took sending shudders though them both. For long moments, Clark could do nothing but wrap his arms around Rachel and Batwoman, his face pressed into Rachel's shoulder where her sweet scent threatened to completely erase all rational thought from Clark's brain.
Then Rachel wrapped her legs around Clark's hips, and Batwoman's fingers were in his hair, and Clark raised his head to see a pair of matching smiles, two pairs of blue eyes gazing at him with such deep, abiding love that Clark couldn't help grinning back.
Slowly, gently, Clark eased his hips back, closely watching Rachel's face for signs that he might be hurting her. Instead he saw the way she caught her lower lip between her teeth as he slowly pulled out, then gasped with pleasure as he pushed back in. Pull, catch, push, gasp. With every thrust, Rachel's body gripped him like a firm hug, reluctantly let him go, eagerly pulled him back. Her sky-blue eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the sensation.
"Mind if I join you?" Batwoman purred. Batwoman's eyes, devoid of makeup and surrounded by black shadows, were an icier blue and filled with mischievous affection. She shifted her weight a tiny bit for better leverage, and the next time Clark slid out, Batwoman did the same.
Rachel made a noise of protest as she lost the contact, but it turned into a cry of ecstasy as both Clark and Batwoman pushed back in at the same moment, filling Rachel to the hilt.
Clark let out a loud moan of his own, feeling Batwoman's movement against his own member. There was only a scant inch or two of flesh between them, Rachel's flesh, shivering with sheer sensation as the two heroes pressed into her, against each other, all three bodies moving in perfect rhythm.
Batwoman pulled Clark into a kiss over Rachel's shoulder, and he lost himself in her hot mouth, her smiling lips. There were hands on his back, a smooth pianist's, a calloused fighter's. His lips moved from Batwoman's to Rachel's, to a pale throat, to a perfect breast. The two women were kissing him, and each other, and there was too much sensation to keep track of all at once.
"I love you, I love you," Clark gasped in time with their movements, not sure who he was speaking to. It didn't matter, there were lips on his hair and his face and his neck, kissing his shoulders, caressing his ears.
Then Batwoman pulled herself completely out of Rachel, halting the glorious rhythm, making Rachel gasp with loss and Clark to stare wide-eyed at the woman who'd removed that glorious friction. Calm, mischievous eyes winked back at him, filled with loving reassurance. This was Batwoman, who did everything for the sake of others, who hid such a caring heart behind her armored exterior. Her smile reassured Clark that Batwoman would never be needlessly cruel, leaving them both on the edge for no reason.
Clark felt a firm, slick touch along the underside of his shaft and gasped at the unexpected sensation. Rachel let out a long, low moan of unadulterated pleasure as she went soft and limp in Clark's arms, her mind, like his, entirely absorbed on the feeling of Batwoman's slick strap-on cock pressing against where they were already so tightly joined. Clark could feel a low groan escaping his throat as the tip slid into Rachel's already wet and tight-stretched pussy, sliding against the base of Clark's own cock as it pressed slowly inside, inch by gloriously tortuous inch.
If he hat thought Rachel's pussy was wonderfully tight before, it was nothing to the tight, hugging grip with which she held them now, Clark's cock pulled so tightly against Batwoman's that every centimeter of his length was intimately pressed against hot, slick flesh or shadow.
A smirk and an encouraging kiss from Batwoman set his hips moving again, rocking, and every minute slide, every tiny twitch of their three joined bodies brought waves of ecstasy surging through his veins, made Rachel cry out in passionate need, made Batwoman rock her own sweet hips in echoing response. When Clark slid out, Batwoman would press in deep, sliding against him and filling Rachel to the hilt. The next moment, Batwoman would pull back and Clark would thrust into that welcoming tightness, feeling the friction against Batwoman and the way Rachel shivered between them, constantly, achingly full.
"Superman…" The whisper seemed to come from far away, a question. Clark looked up into Rachel's face, where she smiled as though about to burst with love.
"Superman…" Batwoman asked this time, "Do you want this?"
"Yes!" Clark begged, not caring how undone he became. They would accept him, they would reach the edge together, "Yes! Please! Just a little more…"
Rachel tensed against him, practically singing her release, gripping him and Batwoman together, as though trying to draw them both into herself, making them all become one. Clark gasped, the force of his climax reached up to seize his mind and heart and-
"SUPERMAN!"
Clark's eyes snapped open as the beautiful, familiar voice in his ear called his name. His cry of release turned into a cry of surprise, or at least a muffled "Wha..?"
Trying to think Clark rolled frantically, trying to see where Batwoman was, why she was in his bedroom… and rolled right off the bed, hitting the ground with a loud clunk.
Shaking his head, Clark realized the soft chuckling was in his earpiece. Blushing furiously, Clark patted at his sticky boxers, his cum-smeared sheets, trying to figure out what to say to the woman on the other end of the line, the woman he'd just dreamed about…
No! Clark blushed harder, bad thoughts!
He yawned loudly, trying to cover up awkwardness with sleepiness in his voice, then cleared his throat just to make sure.
"Yes Batwoman?" he asked, trying to sound neutral.
“Follow the Tumbler.” She instructed, voice all business, as an engine roared to life in the background.
Business, that was good. Business would hopefully distract Clark from all the phenomenally dirty thoughts some perverted part of his mind had called up… at least until he got the chance to wash his whole brain out with soap, or whatever it would take to remove that admittedly delightful image of two of the most respected women in his life panting and groaning against him as he moved…
"I'm on my way." Clark managed to choke out before killing the signal. Whatever Batwoman wanted, he had a feeling it would be a long day...